


Dead Man's Float

by NotALemon



Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dean Winchester Needs Love, Drowning, Episode: s01e03 Dead in the Water, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Gentle Reminder that Sam and Gabriel Love Each Other, Horny Dean Winchester, M/M, Protective Gabriel, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: Dean glares at his brother. “You know what? I’m sick of this attitude. You don’t think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”“Yeah, I know you do, it’s just--”“I’m the one that’s been with him every single day for the past two years, while you’ve been off to college goin’ to pep rallies and screwin’ angels. We’ll find Dad, but until then, we’re gonna kill everythin’ bad between here and there. Okay?”Sam rolls his eyes. Wendy walks by, pretty and blonde, and distracts Dean, lost in her figure.“Sam, finding your daddy can take… a while. You know that, right?” Gabriel asks.Sam taps his fingers on the table. “It’s taking too long,” he mutters.“It’s beenmillennia, and my siblings still haven’t found mine.”
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643980
Comments: 16
Kudos: 122





	Dead Man's Float

They’re sitting in some Lynnwood Inn, a mostly-empty plate of diner food and a folded-out newspaper in front of Dean. Gabriel’s halfway through his second plate of pancakes and whipped cream, Sam watching him with admiration. 

Dean circles an obituary for Carlton, Sophie. _The Carlton family is sad to announce the death of their beloved daughter in a tragic swimming accident. Sophie Carlton, 18--_.

Wendy, their attractive, in her strappy shirt that shows ample amounts of her cleavage, stops by the table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks, leaning over the table. Dean looks up and grins around the pen he’s chewing on.

“Just the check, please,” Sam says, flatly.

“Okay,” Wendy says, sounding a little annoyed. She walks away.

Dean drops his head to look at the obituaries, then glares at Sam. “You know, Sam, we _are_ allowed to have fun once in a while.” He points to Wendy and checks her out as she’s walking away, appreciating her short-shorts almost as much as he appreciated her low-cut shirt. “ _That’s_ fun. Not all of us have a travel-sized boyfriend we can just carry ‘round wherever we go.”

Gabriel looks up from where he’s inhaling his pancakes. “Why, you jealous?”

“Bite me, Snickers.” Dean hands the newspaper to Sam. “Here, take a look at this. I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn’t walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”

“A funeral?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, it’s weird. They buried an empty coffin,” Dean says. “For, uh, closure or whatever.” He shrugs.

“Closure? What closure?” Sam asks. “People don’t just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for ‘em.”

Gabriel wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, watching Sam with his wide, honeyed eyes.

Dean taps his pen against the table, clicking it. “Somethin’ you want to say to me, Sammy?”

“The trail for Dad. It’s getting colder every day.” Sam crosses his arms.

“Exactly,” Dean says, equally as pissed. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admits. “Something. Anything.”

Dean glares at his brother. “You know what? I’m sick of this attitude. You don’t think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”

“Yeah, I know you do, it’s just--”

“I’m the one that’s been with him every single day for the past two years, while you’ve been off to college goin’ to pep rallies and screwin’ angels. We’ll find Dad, but until then, we’re gonna kill everythin’ bad between here and there. Okay?”

Sam rolls his eyes. Wendy walks by, pretty and blonde, and distracts Dean, lost in her figure.

“Sam, finding your daddy can take… a while. You know that, right?” Gabriel asks.

Sam taps his fingers on the table. “It’s taking too long,” he mutters. 

“It’s been _millennia_ , and my siblings still haven’t found mine.” 

“Alright, Lake Manitoc. Hey!” Sam says to Dean, catching his attention.

Dean turns his attention to Sam, looking away from Wendy as she disappears behind a wall. “Huh?”

“How far?” Sam asks.

-

With Ratt playing over the speakers, Dean drives the Impala into Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin, and pulls up to a nice, well-kept house that whispers of casual affluence. Dean cuts the engine and walks up to knock on the bright red door before Sam and Gabriel snap out of the Impala. Will Carlton, a young man in a brown shirt, opens up the door.

“Will Carlton?” Dean asks, his professional facade on.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Will says, sounding almost unsure of his own answer, as if he wasn’t quite sure if his name is still the same.

“I’m Agent Ford. These are Agents Hamill and Fisher.” Dean gestures to Sam and Gabriel behind him. “We’re with the US Wildlife Service.” He holds up an ID.

Will brings the group to the lake, picturesque and far too serene, for what had happened so recently in its waters. His father, an older man, sits on a bench on the dock, staring out into the water blankly. They stand by the shore, not close enough to touch the water.

“She was about a hundred yards out,” Will says, staring out at the lake with a glazed-over look. “That’s where she got dragged down,” he explains, pain on his face.

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?”

“Yeah,” Will says. “She was a varsity swimmer.” He still stares out at the lake, as though he can’t believe it. “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own _bathtub_.”

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam keeps his voice soft and gentle, just so he doesn’t push Will too hard.

“No, that’s what I’m telling you,” Will says, sounding like he’s the distressed one.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam continues.

“Anything you’ve never seen before?” Gabriel adds, helpfully.

“No. Again, she was really far out there.” Will crosses his arms

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean asks. 

“No, never.” Will finally tears his eyes from the lake to look at Dean, concerned. “Why, what do you think’s out there?” he asks, curiously.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we do,” Dean says, already beginning his walk back to the Impala.

“What about your father?” Sam asks, softly. “Can we talk to him?”

Dean stops walking back to the car and turns back.

Will looks at his father, hesitantly, then looks back at Sam and Gabriel. “Look, if you don’t mind, I mean… he didn’t see anything, and he’s kind of been through a lot.” 

“We understand,” Sam says, politely. He looks to Gabriel, then walks off to the car with Dean.

-

“Now, I’m sorry, but _why_ does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” Sheriff Jake Devin asks, leading the group through the sleepy police station. The Sheriff himself looks equally as sleepy, the small-town life fitting him well.

“You sure it’s accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister,” Sam argues, polite as ever.

“Like what?” Jake leads them into his office, motioning to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Here, sit, please. Though one of you is going to have to stand. Sorry.” He shakes his head a little. “There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.” Gabriel nearly launches himself to sit in one of the chairs before Dean does, Sam sitting in the other. Dean glares at them. “There’s nothing-- There’s nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Yeah.” He laughs, for show. “Right.”

Gabriel smiles. “Imagine that, hm? Loch Ness Monster? Here?”

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks,” Jake says, earnestly. “Still--” Jake sits down in his own chair. “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there,” he says, convincingly.

“That’s weird, though,” Dean argues, leaning forward. “I mean, that’s-- that’s the third missing body this year.”

“I know,” Jake says, sympathetically. “These are people from my town. These are people I _care about_.”

“I know,” Dean says, placatingly.

“Anyway,” Jake says with a sigh, leaning back in his seat. He looks tired. “All this… it won’t be a problem much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questions.

Jake cocks his head to the side, just a little. “Well, the dam, of course.”

Sam, finger resting against his mouth, watches with interest. Gabriel, who’s just along for the ride, looks around the room.

“Of course, the dam,” Dean says, nodding along as if he understands. He spares a look to Sam and Gabriel in front of him. “It’s, uh, sprung a leak.”

“It’s falling apart,” Jake corrects, “and the feds won’t give us the grant to repair it, so they’ve opened the spillway.” He leans forward In another six months, there won’t be much of a lake.” Jake rests his arms on the desk in front of him. “There won’t be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.” He eyes the supposed _agents_ in front of him.

“Exactly.” Dean acts as though he did. 

A young woman, Andrea Barr, taps on the door as she walks in. She’s pretty, in an understated way: brown hair, soft face, faded pink skirt and white shirt. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” she asks.

Sam and Gabriel stand. 

“I can come back later,” Andrea says.

“Gentleman, this is my daughter,” Jake introduces, standing as well.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean.” He shakes her hand, subtly checking her out.

“Andrea Barr. Hi,” she says, shaking his hand.

“Hi.” Dean smiles at her, flirtatiously. 

“They’re from the Wildlife Service. About the lake,” Jake explains, seriously.

“Oh,” Andrea responds.

A small boy walks around Andrea’s legs. He looks morose, a whisper of a boy, his brown hair long, as if he’s trying to cover his face.

“Oh, hey there,” Dean greets. “What’s your name?”

Lucas shrugs and walks away without speaking. Andrea looks at the men in her father’s office and follows Lucas out.

“His name is Lucas,” Jake says, soft and understated.

Lucas and Andrea settle into the main room of the station. Andrea gives Lucas some crayons from a Crayola box, a blank piece of paper laying out in front of him.

“Is he okay?” Sam, the compassionate man he is, asks.

“My grandson’s been through a lot.” He shakes his head, deeper meaning lying beneath his words. “We all have.” Jake stands and goes to the office door. “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

They leave the office. Jake claps Sam on the back.

“Thanks,” Dean says. “You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably-priced motel?” He asks Andrea, more as an excuse to speak to her than anything.

“Lakefront Motel,” Andrea says with a smile. “Go around the corner. It’s about two blocks south.”

Dean points in the general direction he thinks it might be, faking confusion. “Two-- would you mind showing us?” Dean asks with a chuckle.

Sam, annoyed with his brother’s antics, rolls his eyes and looks at Gabriel. Gabriel simply nudges his side.

Andrea laughs. “You want me to walk you two blocks?” she asks.

“Not if it’s any trouble,” Dean says.

If Sam rolls his eyes any harder, he might pull something.

“I’m headed that way, anyway.” She turns to Jake. “I’ll be back to pick up Lucas at three.” Then she turns to Lucas, bending down to his level as he draws his pictures. “And we’ll go to the park, okay, sweetie?” She kisses Lucas on the head. 

Dean waves as they leave. Gabriel gives him a smile. Lucas continues to draw, unaffected.

“Thanks again,” Sam says. 

Jake nods at them. They leave the station, onto the sidewalk running alongside the street. The tired town of Lake Manitoc is a typical small town, one that Sam and Dean are more than used to, from their years of hunting. The sun shines down upon them as they walk, Andrea leading, Dean traiting her, and Sam and Gabriel next to each other.

“So, cute kid,” Dean says.

“Thanks,” Andrea says. They cross a street.

“Kids are the best, huh?” Dean asks, catching up to Andrea’s side as they cross.

Andrea glances at him, then ignores him. Sam grins at Dean’s back, then looks to Gabriel, who gives him a grin in return.

They continue to walk, stopping in front of a building that says _Lakefront Motel_.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks.” Andrea turns to face Dean, Sam and Gabriel behind her back.

“Thanks,” Sam says, resting his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. 

“Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line,” Andrea snarks drily to Dean. She walks off smirking, calling back over her shoulder. “Enjoy your stay!”

Gabriel laughs. “She’s right, you know.”

“‘Kids are the best’?” Sam asks, semi-mockingly. “You don’t even _like_ kids.”

Dean turns from watching Andrea leave to his brother. “I love kids,” Dean argues.

“Name three children that you even know,” Sam deadpans. Gabriel grins at Dean.

Dean thinks for a moment, drawing up his hand as if to count them up on his fingers, then comes up empty. 

Gabriel snorts with laughter at Dean’s shortcomings. Sam waves a hand and walks into the motel with Gabriel. Dean scratches his head. “I’m thinking!” he says, walking in after them. 

-

In the motel room with beige wallpaper with a looping red pattern, Sam works on his laptop, Gabriel leaning against his side and watching the screen, Dean going through his clothing behind them, occasionally looking into the mirror on the wall, as if it’ll tell him how he lost his charm.

“That’s three drowning victims this year,” Gabriel announces. “Kinda sketchy.”

“Any before that?” Dean asks idly, “folding” his clothes in a way that looks more like he’s balling them up.

“Uh, yeah.” On Sam’s laptop, there are several tabs opened to _The Lake Manitoc Tribune_. He clicks through them. _DROWNING TAINTS ICE FISHING FESTIVAL_ , one reads. In another tab, the headline reads: _12-YEAR OLD GIRL DROWNS IN LAKE_ , with a tasteful subheading labelling it the _second drowning in months at Lake Manitoc_.

“Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years,” Sam continues. “Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace.”

Dean tosses some clothing onto a bed, looking over his shoulder at Sam. “So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?”

“This whole lake monster theory, it-- it just _bugs_ me,” Sam says. 

Dean comes over to read over Sam’s shoulder, too. “Why?” he asks.

“Loch ness, uh, Lake Champlain-- there are literally _hundreds_ of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing.” 

“Wouldn’t call ‘em _monsters_ ,” Gabriel mutters. “I thought they were cute when I made ‘em. Then daddy decided he wanted to hide ‘em, ‘cuz I guess they scared the humans.”

“You can’t _possibly_ think I’d believe that you made the Loch Ness monster.”

“Daddy would give me the clay and tell me to leave ‘im alone when I got annoying,” Gabriel says. “But Sam’s right. I know these lil fellas, and this? No dice. They don’t really like _eating_ people as much as playing with ‘em. Real cute, when you get to know ‘em. Like mer-puppies.”

Dean gives Sam a look. “Really? Outta all the guys you coulda gotten, you picked _this guy_?”

Sam looks at the _Tribune_ homepage, open in another tab, and tries hiding his smile. “Whatever it is out there, no one’s living to talk about it,” he continues. He scrolls down into the comments section, a sketchy resource at best. 

Dean points at something in the comments, almost urgently. “Wait, Barr. Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?”

Gabriel crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows, waiting for Dean to get it.

“Christopher Barr, the victim in May,” Sam says. He clicks a link, opening a new page. _LOCAL MAN IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT_ , the article reads, a picture of Lucas wrapped in a towel and a police officer beneath it. “Oh,” Sam says, voice falling. “Christopher Barr was Andrea’s husband, Lucas’ father.” Sam reads through the page quickly, like skimming through a textbook and summarizing the chapter fifteen minutes before class begins. “Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating platform when Chris drowned.” His voice gets quieter. “Two hours before the kid got rescued.” He clicks the picture for a better look, scratches his head. “Maybe we have an eyewitness after all.”

“No wonder that kid was so freaked out,” Dean says, voice quiet. It’s not as much sympathy as it is true understanding of Lucas’ situation. “Watching one of your parents isn’t something you just get over.”

-

In the park, there are children laughing and playing, running around with each other and on top of brightly-colored playground equipment. Andrea sits alone on a bench, watching Lucas coloring and playing with toy soldiers, quiet and also alone, on another bench.

“Can we join you?” Sam asks politely.

Andrea looks up to see Sam, Gabriel, and Dean.

“I’m here with my son,” she says.

Dean looks over at Lucas, the silent, solitary child. “Oh. Mind if I say hi?” He goes over to Lucas.

Andrea turns to Sam and Gabriel. “Tell your friend this whole _Jerry Maguire_ thing is not gonna work on me.”

Sam sits next to Andrea on the bench, Gabriel next to him. “I don’t think that’s what this is about,” he says quietly.

Dean approaches Lucas. “How’s it going?” he asks, kneeling down next to the bench where Lucas is drawing. Lucas doesn’t look up. Dean picks up one of the toy soldiers, the little green army men he knows from his childhood. Some might still be in the Impala, lost and unmissed. “Oh, I used to love these things,” he says. Then, in his true childlike fashion, he imitates guns and explosions, as if the toys were doing what they were created for. 

Lucas doesn’t look up from his coloring.

“So crayons is more your thing?” Dean asks. “That’s cool. Chicks dig artists.” He takes a look at the drawings Lucas has piled on the bench. The top one is a big black swirl, and the one under it is a red bicycle. “Hey, these are pretty good. You mind if I sit and draw with you for a while? I’m not so bad myself.”

Dean picks up a blue crayon and a pad of paper, sits on the bench, and begins drawing. “You know, I’m thinking you can hear me, you just don’t want to talk. I don’t know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad.” He looks at Lucas. “I think I know how you feel. When I was your age, I saw something.” He pauses as he thinks about it, about Mary, tries to put it into words.

“Anyway…” Dean blinks a couple times. “Well, maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or, uh… or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don’t even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture ‘bout what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.” He watches Lucas draw, idly. “Okay, no problem. This is for you.” Dean holds the picture he drew out to Lucas, made of simplistic stick figures.

“This is my family,” Dean explains. He points to the first figure. “That’s my dad.” Then the next. “That’s my mom,” he says, with a little difficulty. Then he points to the next two, a bit of a grin showing up. “That’s my geek brother and his boyfriend, and--” he points to the last one-- “that’s me.” He smiles at Lucas. Sill nothing. Dean stands and sets his drawing down on the bench. “Alright, so I’m a sucky artist,” he agrees. “I’ll see you around, Lucas.” He heads back to where the others are. Behind him, Lucas picks up the drawing.

“Lucas hasn’t said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad’s accident,” Andrea says. She’s standing, now, with Sam and Gabriel, arms crossed as though trying to protect herself from what’s happened.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Dean says.

Andrea nods. She hears this all the time.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asks.

“Oh, that it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress.”

Sam shakes his head, glancing at his brother before looking back at Andrea. “That can’t be easy. For either of you.”

“We moved in with my dad,” Andrea says. “He helps out a lot.” She looks over her shoulder at Lucas. “It’s just… when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…”

Gabriel nods. Sam and Dean look at each other, just for a moment.

“Kids are strong,” Dean says, after the pause. “You’d be surprised what they can deal with.”

Lucas leaves the bench, heading for the group.

“You know, he used to have such life,” Andrea says with a sad laugh. “He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth.” She looks at her son. “Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish--”

Lucas walks up to her, carrying a picture.

“Hey, sweetie,” Andrea says.

Lucas hands the picture to Dean wordlessly. 

“Thanks,” Dean says. “Thanks, Lucas.” He looks at the house pictured, cream-colored with a red roof and door. Like all of Lucas’ other works, it’s clear, if a little scribbly.

Lucas heads back to the bench. They watch him, in silence. Andrea, in partial amazement: Lucas hasn’t given anyone his drawings before.

-

Dean sits on a bed in the motel room. Sam opens the door and comes in with Gabriel.

“So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie,” Sam says, a little annoyed.

“What do you mean?”

Sam sits next to Dean. Gabriel stands. “We just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.” His voice is grim and pointed.

“He drowned?” Dean asks, disbelieving.

“If you count _dying in the sink_ as drowning, then yes,” Gabriel says.

“What the hell?” Dean asks. “So you’re right, this isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else.”

“Yeah, but what?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water…” he looks around the room, as though it holds the answers, even looks to Gabriel, who raises his eyebrows. “Water that comes from the same source,” he says, in a true _eureka!_ moment.

“The lake,” Sam says. 

Gabriel shoots finger guns at them. “Bingo! I was waitin’ for when you bozos would figure it out.” He gives Sam a sympathetic glance. “Sorry.”

Sam gives him a bitchy look that fades when Gabriel sits by him and leans against his side. He doesn't admit that he melts around Gabriel, but they all know he does. “Which would explain why it’s upping the body count.” Now that the ball’s rolling, Sam continues on, putting together more pieces of this mystery. “The lake is draining. It’ll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants-- it’s running out of time.”

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere,” Dean says, horrified. He stands and walks across the room. “This is gonna happen again soon.” Dean sits down in a different chair, putting on his boots.

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this _has_ got something to do with Bill Carlton,” Sam says.

“Taking both’a his kids,” Gabriel says. He slides one of his hands over one of Sam’s. “That’s gotta suck.”

“And we’ve been asking around,” Sam continues. “Lucas’ dad, Chris? Bill Carlton’s _godson_.” 

“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit,” Dean says with determination, standing from the chair. 

-

Bill Carlton is still sitting on the bench on his dock, staring out at the lake. 

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam asks, walking towards him on the dock.

Bill looks up at the group approaching him, teary-eyed and silent.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind,” Sam says. 

Dean begins his spiel. “We’re from the-- the Department--”

“I don’t care who you’re with,” Bill says, with the exhausted, tearful voice of someone who has lost everything. “I’ve answered enough questions today.”

“Your son said he saw something in that lake,” Sam says, still pushing on. “What about you? You ever see anything out there? Mr. Carlton, Sophie’s drowning and Will’s dead-- we think there might be a connection to you or your family.”

“My children are gone.” Mr. Carlton sounds like he wants to cry, but has no tears left to do so. “It’s… It’s worse than dying.” He looks at Sam, pleadingly. “Go away. Please.”

They head back to the car. 

“What do you think?” Sam asks.

“Ah, I think the poor guy’s been through hell,” Dean says. “I also think he’s not tellin’ us somethin’.”

Sam leans on the Impala. Gabriel wraps his arm around Sam’s waist. “So now what?”

Dean goes still, looking around. 

“Uh-oh. What’s up?” Gabriel asks.

“Huh.” Dean’s gaze is fixed on the Carlton house. “Maybe Bill’s not the only one who know somethin’.” He pulls out the picture Lucas brought him, which is of the Carlton house. Dean looks at Sam and Gabriel.

-

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Andrea says.

“I just need to talk to him,” Dean says.

They’re in the living room of Jake’s house, a tastefully homey place with gingham-printed curtains and large windows.

“Just for a few minutes,” Dean continues.

“He won’t say anything. What good’s it gonna do?” Andrea’s hands rest on her hips, her pink shirt just barely missing the top of her denim skirt. 

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt,” Sam explains, in that gentle and soft way he does when he’s talking about human lives. He looks at Dean, then Gabriel. “We think something’s happening out there.”

“My husband, the others-- they just drowned. That’s all.”

“If that’s what you really believe, then we’ll go,” Dean says, issuing up one o fhis famous ultimatums. “But if you think there’s even a _possibility_ that something else could be goin’ on here, please let me talk to your son.”

-

Lucas is coloring on the floor of his neatly-kept bedroom, his toy soldiers standing around him. The group approaches the doorway. Dean enters and crouches down by Lucas.

“Hey, Lucas,” Dean greets, bent down to his level. “You remember me?”

Lucas has drawn the red bicycle two more times, the papers in another neat stack. Dean looks at them.

“You know, I, uh, wanted to thank you for that last drawing,” Dean says, kindly. “But the thing is, I need your help again,” Dean says.

Lucas’ current drawing is of a person in water. Dean carefully unfolds the house picture and puts it down in front of Lucas. 

“How did you know to draw this?” Dean asks. “Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me.”

Lucas continues coloring without speaking.

“You’re scared,” Dean observes. “It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw somethin’ real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talkin’, just like you. But see, my mom-- I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

Dean’s speech has many lulling pauses in it, when he remembers things from his childhood, fond memories of his mother that he’s kept for all this time.

Lucas drops his crayon and looks up at Dean for a moment before handing him a picture. It’s of a white church next to a yellow house, a boy with a blue baseball cap and the same red bicycle he’d been drawing in front of a wooden fence. 

“Thanks, Lucas,” Dean says.

In the Impala, Sam holds the drawing of the church. Gabriel looks at it over his shoulder. Billy Squire plays over the speakers.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that til his dad died,” Dean says.

“There are cases-- going through a traumatic experience could make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” Sam says.

Gabriel presses a kiss to Sam’s temple. Sam looks out the window, a little embarrassed. 

“Gross,” Dean comments.

Gabriel flips him off. “If _you_ had such a catch, you’d wanna show him off, too.”

Dean shakes his head, returning to the pressing matter of people dying, a little more irate now. “Whatever’s out there-- what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it’s only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please…”

Sam sighs in submission. “Alright, we got another house to find.”

“The only problem is there’s about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean says.

Sam inspects the picture. “See this church? I bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here.”

“Oh, College Boy thinks he’s so smart,” Dean mutters. Sam chuckles at that.

“You know, um…” Sam clears his throat. “What you said about Mom…” he looks at his brother. “You never told me that before.”

“It’s no big deal,” Dean brushes off. Then, after a moment of silence interrupted only by Billy Squire, he looks over at Sam and speaks up. “Oh God, we’re not gonna have to hug or anythin’, are we?”

-

They approach a white church shaped like the one Lucas drew. Dean holds up the picture and looks at it, comparing it to the scene in front of him; the yellow house next to the church and a wooden fence near the house. The only things missing are the kid and his red bike. All three of them look up at the church and cross the street.

“We’re sorry to bother you ma’am,” Dean says, once they’re in the house. “But does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”

The old woman they’re talking to, best described as worn-looking, goes a little sad. “No, sir. Not for a very long time,” she says, looking to the ground. “Peter’s been gone for thirty-five years now.” She looks at a picture of long-haired Peter on the side table and sighs. “The police never-- _I_ never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” 

Gabriel nudges Sam and points to some toy soldiers sitting on a table. Sam points them out to Dean.

“Losing him-- you know, it’s… it’s worse than dying.” Mrs. Sweeney looks like she’s about to cry, tears stepping into her voice.

Dean glances at Sam. “Did he disappear from here? I mean, from his house?” he asks.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he-- he never showed up,” Mrs. Sweeny says, voice watery with unhealed grief.

Dean picks up a picture off the mirror, of two boys: one is Peter, standing with a red bicycle and who might be his friend. Dean reads from the back. “Peter Sweeny and Billy Carlton, nineteen-seventy.”

-

Dean drives the Impala back to the Carlton house.

“Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” Sam says.

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding somethin’, huh?” Dean asks.

“Billy and the people he loves’re gettin’ canned. Almost like whatever this thing is is gettin’ their just desserts,” Gabriel comments. 

“So what if Bill did something to Peter?” Dean suggests.

“What if Bill killed him?” Sam suggests back. When they’re in the middle of a case like this, they speak like they already know what the other is about to say, smoothly adding on sentences and statements that build upon each other.

Dean considers it. “Peter’s spirit’d be furious. It’d want revenge. It’s possible.”

“Just desserts,” Gabriel repeats, then shrugs.

-

Once more, they end up at the Carlton house, approaching the house itself. 

“Mr. Carlton?” Sam calls out.

In the distance, an engine roars. 

“Hey, check it out,” Dean says.

They run to the end of the dock, yelling for Bill.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Come out of the water! Turn the boat around!”

“Mr. Carlton!” Sam calls.

“Billy!” Gabriel adds.

Bill ignores their protests and continues going on the lake. The water rises up and flips the boat over like a punch, flimmering in the air, going back to its eerie calm the second Bill goes underwater. 

-

In the main room of the police station, Lucas sits in a chair, rocking back and forth. Andrea sits next to him, holding a paper bag in a plastic bucket.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Andrea asks, gently running her hand over Lucas’ back.

Sherief Jake Devins walks in, Dean, Sam, and Gabriel in tow. Andrea looks over. 

“Sam, Gabe, Dean.” She stands, putting the bag and container on her chair. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“So now you’re on a first-name basis,” Jake observes, irate. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner,” Andrea says.

Jake looks at the container on the chair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t really have the time.”

Andrea looks at the Winchesters and Gabriel. “I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”

Jake glances at them over his shoulder before addressing his daughter. “Right now we don’t know what the truth is,” he says, in serious, hushed tones. “But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”

Lucas looks up and whines, looking upset and stricken. When he sees Dean, he jumps up and grabs Dean’s arm.

“Lucas, hey. What is it?” Dean asks.

“Lucas,” Andrea says. She grabs Lucas’s tiny body and holds him close. 

“Lucas, it’s okay. It’s okay. Hey, Lucas, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Dean says. 

Andrea pulls Lucas away from Dean and leads him outside the Station, whispering to him as she leads him out. Lucas doesn’t tear his eyes from Dean. Dean stares back, heartbroken.

Jake throws down his jacket and goes into his office in annoyance. The group follows.

“Okay, just so I’m clear, you see… something attack Bill’s boat, sending Bill-- who is a very good swimmer, by the way-- into the drink, and you never see him again?” Jake asks, skeptical. 

Dean looks at Sam and Gabriel. “Yeah, that about sums it up,” he says.

“And I’m supposed to believe this, even though I’ve already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you’re describing is impossible? And you’re not really Wildlife Service?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

“That’s right, I checked. Department’s never heard of you guys.”

“See, now, we can explain that,” Dean says, pointing from himself to Sam to Gabriel to Jake. 

“Enough. Please,” Jake says, authoritative. “The only reason you’re breathing free air is one of Bill’s neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton’s disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get in your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don’t ever darken my doorstep again.” He gets more intense as he continues, angrier at the group of people who keep investigating his town.

“Door number two sounds good,” Sam says. He links his fingers with Gabriel’s. Dean does a half-nod of agreement.

“That’s the one I’d pick,” Jake says, the most intense they’d seen him.

\- 

The Impala waits at a traffic light, a sign reading _I-43 Milwaukee_ pointing to the left. The light, one of the only things illuminating the darkness other than the Impala’s lights and the light of Gabriel’s eternally-charged DS, turns green, but Dean doesn’t move, distracted by something.

“Green,” Sam says, annoyed.

“What?” Dean asks, still heavily distracted.

“Light’s green,” Sam repeats.

Dean turns right.

“Uh, the interstate’s the other way,” Sam says.

“I know,” Dean says, continuing his slow turn.

“But Dean, this job-- I think it’s over,” Sam says.

“I’m not so sure,” Dean says.

“If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter’s spirit got its revenge, case closed! The spirit should be at rest,” Sam reasons.

“Alright, so what if we take off and this thing isn’t done? You know, what if we’ve missed somethin’? What if more people get hurt?”

“Hate to say it,” Gabriel pipes up from the back seat, looking up from his Nintendogs, “but I gotta agree with your brother.”

“But why would you think that?” Sam asks.

Dean considers it for a moment, his answer. “Because Lucas was really scared.”

“That’s what this is about?” Sam asks.

“I just don’t want to leave this town til I know the kid’s okay.” Dean’s serious, from the tone of his voice to the deadpan look on his face as he continues down the road.

“Who are you?” Sam asks. “And what have you done with my brother?” Sam asks, half-jokingly. 

Dean glances at Sam. “Shut up,” he dismisses.

-

Outside of Andrea’s house, the group stands by the door.

“Are you sure about this? It’s pretty late, man,” Sam says.

Dean rings the doorbell. Lucas throws open the door, terror written across his pale face. 

“Lucas? Lucas!” 

Lucas takes off down the hallway, leaving the guys to follow him.

He takes them to the bathroom, pounding on the bathroom door. 

Dean pushes Lucas to Sam and Gabriel and kicks in the door. Once the door’s down, Dean grabs Lucas, holding him back from the tub of dirty lake water, leaving Sam to run into the bathroom and stick his arms into the tub, struggling to pull Andrea from the water against whatever is pulling her under. He pulls, fights the water until Andrea’s all the way out, coughing up the dirty water on the floor. 

-

Dawn breaks as Sam and Gabriel sit with Andrea in the living room.

“Can you tell me?” Sam asks, gently.

“No,” Andrea says. She’s nestled up in comfortable clothes, a zip-up hoodie and sweatpants.

Dean looks through notebooks on bookshelves in the living room.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Andrea says. Then she starts tearing up. “I’m going crazy.” She puts her face in her hands.

“No, you’re not. Tell me what happened. Everything.”

“I heard… I thought I heard… there was this voice,” Andrea says, scared.

“What did it say?” Sam asks quietly.

“It said… it said, ‘come play with me’.” Andrea sobs at her own perceived insanity, looking out the window before covering her face again. “What’s happening?”

Dean pulls out an old scrapbook that says _Jake--12 years old_ , and opens it, flipping through the pages. He closes it again and goes to Sam, Gabriel, and Andrea, putting the book down in front of Andrea, open to a picture of Explorer Troop 37.

“Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” Dean asks. 

“What? Um, um, no. I mean, except, that’s my dad right there.” She points to her father. “He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” She moves her finger to another picture of Jake as a child, in his uniform, standing next to Peter. Dean looks at Sam and Gabriel.

“Chris Barr’s drowning. The connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must have been the sheriff,” Dean says. 

“Bill _and_ the sheriff-- they were both involved with Peter,” Sam says.

“What about Chris? My dad-- what are you talking about?” Andrea asks, confused.

Dean looks sideways, catching Lucas staring out the window like something’s calling to him. “Lucas? Lucas, what is it?”

Lucas opens the door and walks outside almost robotically. Everyone follows him.

“Lucas, honey?” Andrea asks.

Lucas stands at a patch of ground, looking down at the green moss thoughtfully.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?” Dean says.

Andrea pulls Lucas back into the house, back to safety. 

Gabriel snaps up a couple shovels so they can start digging. After a moment of digging, Sam’s shovel clanks against something metallic. He and Dean dig with their hands and, with some effort, pull out a red bicycle.

“Peter’s bike,” Sam pants, arms covered in wet earth and flannel sleeves rolled up, exhausted by the effort.

A gun cocks. “Who are you?” Jake asks.

Sam and Dean turn around. Jake stands there, pointing a gun at them. Sam puts up his hands and drops the bike.

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam says, calmly. He and Dean drop the shovels. Gabriel steps in front of Sam, protective as always.

“How did you know that was there?” Jake asks.

“What happened?” Dean asks. “You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can’t bury the truth, Jake. Nothin’ stays buried.”

Andrea watches Jake with the gun aimed at the group from her window. She bends down to talk to Lucas. “Go to your room, sweetie. Now. Lock the door and wait for me. Don’t come out.”

Lucas runs off and Andrea goes outside.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Jake says. 

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That’s what the hell I’m talking about,” Dean says.

Andrea runs up to her father. “Dad!”

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit,” Dean says.

“You got a seriously pissed-off archangel. Put the gun down,” Gabriel commands.

“It’s gonna take Andrea, Lucas-- everyone you love. It’s gonna drown them. And it’s gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then, after that, it’s gonna take you, and it’s not gonna stop until it does,” Sam says, sounding more like a threat. His eyes are wide and full of kindness, even with a gun pointed at his head. 

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Jake asks.

“Because that’s exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” Sam explains.

Jake looks at them in disbelief. “Listen to yourselves, all of you. You’re insane.”

“I don’t really give a rat’s ass what you think of us,” Dean says, flippant. But if we’re gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn’t just let him go in the lake.”He gestures to the lake.

Lucas didn’t go into his room: he’s outside, watching the confrontation mutely. He walks off to the lake.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asks.

“No,” Jake says, dismissively. “Don’t listen to them. They’re liars and they’re dangerous.”

“Something tried to drown me,” Andrea says. “Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.” When she has Jake’s full yet hesitant attention, she continues. “Tell me you-- you didn’t kill anyone.” 

Jake looks away from her, eyes straying and breathing swallowing.

“Oh my God,” Andrea breathes.

“Billy and I were at the lake,” Jake begins, uneven and scared. “Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough.” He pauses.   
We were holding his head under the water. We didn’t mean to--, but we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.” Jake pauses again, full of regret. “Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It’s not rational,” Jake begs.

“Alright, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now,” Dean says, seriously.

Andrea turns her head, spotting Lucas heading down to the lake, and gasps loudly.

“Lucas!” Jake yells, full of fear.

They rush to the dock. Lucas is leaning over the side, reaching for a toy soldier in the water, small fingers nearly brushing the soldier, but not exactly.

“Lucas!” Dean yells, running through the trees.

“Kiddo! Stay away from the water!” Gabriel calls after him.

“Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!” Andrea yells. 

A grayed hand comes up from the murky lake water and grabs Lucas’ tiny arm, pulling him into the water. The adults have reached the very edge of the lake. Jake stops, recognizing Peter’s colorless head sticking out from the water. The Winchesters run to the end of the dock and dive in after him. 

“Oh my God!” Andrea shrieks, beginning to take off her jacket to jump in.

“Andrea, stay there,” Sam yells from where he’s treading water, diving back down.

“No! Lucas!”

“They’ll get them,” Gabriel promises. “Stay here, okay? Just stay here.”

“Sam?” Dean shouts.

Sam shakes his head. They dive back down.

“Lucas, where are you?” Andrea asks.

Jake removes his jacket as the Winchesters dive back down, wading into the water. “Peter, if you can hear me… please, Peter. I’m sorry. I’m so-- I’m so sorry,” Jake pleads, pitifully..

“Daddy, no!” Andrea yells, fighting against Gabriel’s inhuman grip.

“Peter. Lucas-- he’s, he’s just a little boy. Please,” Jake continues to beg. He’s looking around as though he can see Peter’s ghostly, horrific face as he makes his pleas. “It’s not his fault, it’s mine. Please take me.”

Dean comes up for air, Sam emerging seconds after him.

“Jake, no!” Dean yells. 

Peter rises through the water, emerging next to Jake in his ghostly fury.

“Just let it be over!” Jake yells, before Peter grabs his leg and drags him down.

“Daddy! Daddy! No!” Andrea yells.

Gabriel continues to hold her back. “You can’t go in there,” he says. “He’s gone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The Winchesters dive down again, not having found Lucas yet. Andrea has lost both her father and her son, only months after losing her husband, to the damn lake.

“No!” Andrea yells, still struggling.

Sam comes up, shaking his head. Andrea keeps mouthing _no!_. Then Dean comes up, struggling to hold a limp, unmoving Lucas and continue treading the lake water.

-

Dean opens the car door to the Impala and Sam tosses a duffel in.

“Look, we’re not gonna save everybody,” Sam says, messing with the zipper of his hoodie.

“Even angels can’t save everyone,” Gabriel adds.

“I know,” Dean says, pensive.

“Sam, Gabe, Dean,” Andrea says, walking up with Lucas.

“Hey,” Dean says.

“We’re glad we caught you. We just, um-- we made you lunch for the road.” She gestures to Lucas, who’s holding a tray of sandwiches, wrapped in plastic. “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

“Can I give it to them now?” Lucas asks, voice scratchy and quiet from disuse. Dean beams at that.

“Of course.” Andrea smiles and kisses Lucas’ head. 

“Come on, Lucas, let’s load this into the car,” Dean says, bending down to take the tray from him. While he and Dean are putting the sandwiches in the car, Sam and Gabriel talk to Andrea.

Sam watches them, arms crossed. “How you holding up?” Sam asks.

“It’s just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?” Andrea says.

Sam sighs, watching his brother. “Andrea, I’m sorry.” He can only look into her eyes for a second before looking away, full of guilt.

She shakes her head. “You saved my son. I can’t ask for more than that,” she says. “Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”

Gabriel nods. “No matter what happened, your daddy loved you enough to sacrifice himself for you. That’s something a lotta people don’t have.”

Dean puts the sandwiches in the car and sits on the seat next to them, looking up at Lucas. “Alright, if you’re gonna be talkin’ now, this is a _very_ important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”

“Zeppelin rules!” Lucas says.

“That’s right,” Dean says. “Up high.” He holds his hand up for a high five, which Lucas gives him, grinning his crooked, gap-filled child-smile. “You take care of your mom, okay?”

“Alright,” Lucas says.

Andrea comes up and kisses Dean. Dean looks at her with shock. “Thank you,” she says.

Gabriel and Sam suppress laughter.

Dean thinks a minute, then scratches his head and goes around the car, accepting this. “Sam, move your ass. We’re gonna run outta daylight before we hit the road.”

Dean gets in the car, then Sam. Gabriel sits in the back, with the sandwiches.

“And don’t eat all the goddamn food,” Dean tells Gabriel. 

Dean starts the car, Bad Company playing from the radio. He and Sam smile at Andrea and Lucas as they wave goodbye, Gabriel giving them a thumbs-up. They drive away.

**Author's Note:**

> I have spent 5 hours in the past 2 days sitting crouched over her laptop in a darkened room and learning about the British Empire and imperialism, helped a friend begin a huge paper, and then spent 2 hours watching a documentary about Louis and Clark for fun. Oh, yeah, and writing Supernatural fanfiction. 
> 
> If y'all would like to tell me what you like seeing in this series or what you thought about them, I'd love to hear you! Reading comments is the highlight of my day.
> 
> Have a good day, everyone. Stay safe if you're near water!


End file.
